While I was a student at Calvin College, one of the things I both enjoyed and struggled with was learning about different issues that related to international development. I loved being exposed to and being able to do meaningful research about issues such as global health, good partnerships, and environmental sustainability. However, what also made this one of the hardest parts of my academic time at Calvin was the recurring question: “What can I do about these issues?”

We pray; we lament; we give to relief agencies. But we also struggle to understand why this is happening and who’s to blame. And the TV news channels are quick to serve up all kinds of plausible-sounding answers.

“We always look for a Chick-fil-A when we’re traveling south. Their food is so good, and they’re a Christian company.” My friend said this last part almost as an aside. A definitive statement of absolute fact. It was more of a reminder, to herself and to the rest of us, both of the existence of these Christian companies in our midst and of our duty to patronize them as often as possible. Now I’m all for economic solidarity with my brothers and sisters in the business world, but her statement got me wondering, “How do we know they are Christians?

Last summer our high school youth group set out on a service trip. Nothing new, right? Hordes of students head out every summer to change another little piece of the world. But we were trying something a little different, and it wasn’t initially embraced by everyone in our group.

I began to learn about the sex trade in Canada after I began working as the Executive Director of Indian Metis Christian Fellowship (IMCF) in Regina, Saskatchewan.

It was obvious to anyone who drove the streets of North Central Regina that the women and girls standing at street corners were at work. They were ‘street workers’ waiting for ‘johns’–the men who would pay them for sex. In the area around the ministry, the majority of street workers were Aboriginal females, from children to young adults to grandmothers.

Social media: the ever-developing medium that we love and hate simultaneously. Where else can you reconnect with friends from long ago, take a quiz about how long you could survive a zombie apocalypse, tweet your opinion about current events, or pin hundreds of images in one day. This medium has become an inherent part of our lives. For all its good, we know there are challenges in equal part.

A few days ago, kids with foam crowns and Crown Point buttons sat patiently with their parents through a long workplace safety discussion at Hamilton City Hall. They were waiting for the chance to help their neighbourhood association tell their city councilors about the work the association is doing in their community: a volunteer-run, low-cost soccer league, property elves, street parties, a cargo bike share program, improvements to local trails, speed reductions on side streets….The kids are also part of New Hope Christian Reformed Church in east Hamilton, Ontario.

We don’t need statistics to see evidence of poverty in our community – Ingersoll is a small town after all. We all know someone who is having a tough time making ends meet or finding a job, struggling to pay rent, or even finding a place to live. Then there is hidden poverty; the kind we don’t hear about as much but that we know exists – a disabled woman down the street who can’t pay her utility bills; a teenage boy who is essentially homeless and sleeps on a different couch every night; your child’s friend at school who often “forgets” her lunch because there’s nothing at home to bring.